a form of divine drunkenness that we can all try
by manhattan martini
Summary: A series of one-shots. 02—Riku & Riko: in which there is a lot of eye-flirting.
1. SW: Comical, Scared

**A/N:** Set after Ōjō loses against Deimon in the autumn tournament. Prompts are from _30_looks_ & _30_touches_ at LiveJournal. All the pairings in this fic will be het.  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> Look 27—comical or scared  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Shin & Wakana (manager for Ōjō White Knights)

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><p>It's raining, but it's June, and the weather is unusually warm. The rain makes her fingers sticky and moist when she hands out water bottles from under Shōji-sensei's comically large umbrella, but Wakana's biggest concern isn't catching a cold. She curls her toes, self-consciously berating herself for assuming that it would be sunny all day long, and tries not to get mud on her sandals. Despite the warmth, her toes are practically freezing; they're also wet. She tries to shake the water off, but it doesn't work.<p>

"Pass!" Takami exclaims from one end of the field, and Sakuraba raises one hand in silent reply.

Watching the Ōjō White Knights practice is less exciting than it sounds, unless you are a scout or a foe (or a rabid fan girl, but they've been having less of those since Sakuraba cut his hair). Wakana is, sadly, none of those, so the time during which the players run around, polishing themselves and giving their best is very, very boring. She reserves herself the excitement and the glee of the acknowledgement that she is in fact, gifted to be witnessing such high-end players, but the charm falls apart because outside their uniforms, they are just boys.

Ōtawara is the best example of that statement—brash, loud and crass, he is the perfect picture of a teen who has not yet come to terms with his near-adulthood. The difference between other boys and them is that normal teens don't breathe football. Normal teens enjoy karaoke, hanging out with friends, having girlfriends. There was once a time, Wakana remembers, when Sakuraba went karaokeing with girls, actual_ live girls_, and even skipped football practice once or twice.

But not now.

_Deimon really did him in, _she assumes. The wide-receiver in questions runs by her, steals a water bottle out of her hands with a smile. Wakana returns it softly (still not used to being so friendly with so many unique boys), and moves to retrieve more water bottles. Ōtawara drinks two by himself, and it's been a while since they started practice, so she should have some handy.

A particularly strong gust of wind knocks the umbrella out of her hands, and it goes flying, far too high to catch. _Seriously?_ Wakana stays put for a moment, not really willing to believe that her only source of dryness is gone with the _wind_, but then she starts to feel the heavy drops against her bare skin and shirt. She looks around, half-nervous, half-embarrassed, but the only thing around her is the bench, the water bottles and the ball basket. Shōji-sensei has skipped today's practice to meet with Doburoku-sensei, from Deimon, so she's alone. Her hair starts to stick to her face and to her shoulders, even though she has it in a ponytail, and that's when Wakana _really_ starts to panic, because she's wearing her uniform, and the shirt is white—

"Here," Shin says, and takes out his jersey, handing it to her. Wakana doesn't know when he got to the bench, but she feels her face flush as he insistently pushes the jacket into her hands. After an excruciatingly long pair of seconds in which her brain works furiously to make a decision (to be wet or to be mortified, that is the question), her fingers tentatively grab the fabric and take it. Shin nods and runs off with a water bottle in his hand.

She focuses and unfolds his jacket. Wakana is sure that she looks like a drenched puppy, her hair sticking to her face, eyes wide in confusion. She puts on his jersey and tries not to feel embarrassed, but it doesn't work: Ikari and Sakuraba are switching their gazes from her to Shin, confusion sploshed all over their wet faces. Ikari sets to run towards her (but Sakuraba thankfully stops him).

Her hands don't even reach the end of the sleeves. Shin's jacket isn't as big as Takami's or Sakuraba's, who are almost two meters high, but Shin is a big guy nonetheless, and the jacket ends just beneath her skirt when she zips it closed. She feels terribly vulnerable, and spends the following five minutes fidgeting inside it. When Takami runs by her, he almost slides unceremoniously in the mud puddles, baffled at her sudden state of dressing.

"Isn't that—" he starts.

Wakana just hands him a water bottle and stares at him with pleading eyes. She must look really pathetic and really nervous, because Takami just pushes his glasses up and runs off with a little smile instead of asking a teasing question. Of course that, after Takami, it's Sakuraba who arrives, handing her an empty water bottle. He sits down by her side, catching his breath. All the others are slowing down, too (except for Shin, who is obviously still good to go for another one hundred laps), and when Wakana pulls the jacket's sleeves up to check her watch, she notices it's time the practice finishes.

"So." Wakana stares at her toes, trying to pretend she's not listening to Sakuraba. To his credit, he looks genuinely confused and interested, instead of teasing like Takami. "Shin's jacket?"

"Shōji-sensei's umbrella took off flying," Wakana replies, having to raise her voice above the whipping winds. She has a very soft, very girly voice, and most often than not, it's fine and everyone hears her. In football practice, though, she needs to strain her throat.

"The one with Ōjō's logo? Man, he's going to get pissed," Sakuraba replies, chuckling lightly. His voice contrasts against the heavy rain, loud and boyish. "Nah, just kidding. He'll probably be concerned that you spent the practice in the rain, but since Shin gave you his coat…"

She doesn't notice Sakuraba's small threat to tell the coach that she and Shin are interacting. Wakana nods distractedly, getting up from the bench and gathering the footballs closest to her, chucking them in the basket. Her ball control is much better than when she started as manager, and Sakuraba notices it excitedly.

"One of these days you're going to replace Takami," he says, and chuckles. He's in a very good mood; a dire opposite from nausea-induced, depressed Sakuraba. Wakana much prefers this facet of his, even if it means that his whole life is football.

"Who's going to replace Takami?" the quarterback himself asks, putting on an exaggerated frown and not quite hiding the joyful smile on his face.

"Wakana is!" She finds herself under Sakuraba's arm, while the boy argues with his team captain. It's a pleasant reminder that she's his friend, that she's friends with the wonderful boys that are the Ōjō Knights, but Wakana still feels a little uncomfortable. She's led a life of girlfriends and zero interaction with opposite sex, so this is all a little strange.

And yet, the warmth that spreads across her face when Shin glances at her, just arriving from his last set of laps, is one thousand times hotter than the one her blond companion causes. She hangs her head, stares at her muddy sandals. Sakuraba is practically dragging her around while he continues to argue with Takami and Ikari, who joins the discussion immediately. They head for the locker rooms shortly after, leaving a muddy trail of footprints in the clean floor.

"I'd like to see that!"

She makes a mental note to mop it up once they all get inside to change.

"I bet she looks better in uniform than you do!" Sakuraba says, and bursts out laughing. Tamaki leaves the frown on his face behind and finally laughs, unable to keep a poker face at his friend's exclamations. When they turn to stare at Wakana, she manages a little smile; she's flustered beyond her limits. Sakuraba's arm around her shoulders and the sudden talk about her doesn't help, and she can practically feel the team's eyes on her.

After what seems to be an eternity, they finally reach the locker rooms, and she's finally alone, while they shower and change. Wakana presses her clammy hands against her flushed cheeks. She also needs to change, but … into what? She wasn't expecting that it would rain, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't bring a change of clothes. _That's what I get for skipping on the weather report._

First thing's first: to mop the aisle. It doesn't take her long to leave it pristine, especially because the floor is easy to clean. By the time she sets the cleaning things into the janitor's closet, her feet have dried, and her sandals are clean, beneath the bathroom faucets. Her hair is still dripping onto Shin's jacket, which, incidentally, she hasn't taken off. It's silly, but it gives her a quiet sense of happiness. Maybe it's the resulting warmth or maybe it's the smell of his deodorant. It smells like cologne, like a boy, and it makes her flush from time to time. Wakana wonders if this is what her best friend feels when she wears her boyfriend's coat.

She walks inside the girl's locker room and opens her own locker. There is just her backpack inside, and she sighs. There had been a quiet flame of hope flickering inside her chest, telling her that maybe she had a spare towel from last Monday's practice, or maybe she'd left clothes behind. But Wakana hardly ever leaves things in her locker, so it's no surprise it's empty.

She sits down, barefoot, and tries to think of what to do. She's hung Shin's jersey on the hanger, she's set her damp sandals in the bench to dry, and she's pulled her damp hair out of her ponytail, so that it doesn't get deformed. But besides casually brushing it with a comb (she's managed to find one in the depths of her bag), there isn't much she can do. So Wakana checks her phone, and answers her best friend's emails.

In a little while, her sandals are as good as new, and her skirt is just barely humid. Her hair doesn't take too long to dry, either. It's her shirt she's worried with. When she checks herself in the mirror, Wakana sees the outlines of her bra against the transparent white, and she knows she doesn't have the guts to go outside looking like that. She takes a look at Shin's jacket, hanging in the corner of the room.

"Aah," she sighs, and flops down on the bench. If she wasn't so shy, she would ask him if maybe she could wear it home. It's not that it's cold—in fact it's very warm outside—and that is the reason as to why she didn't bring her uniform jacket. "So unlucky…"

Someone knocks on the door, and Wakana sits up immediately, startled.

"Wakana? We're ready to leave now," Takami says, from the other side of the entrance.

"_Oh_," she replies inarticulately, grabbing her sandals and her bag from the locker, and inelegantly skipping towards Shin's jacket. "I—just a second!" She drapes it over her shoulders and zips it closed once more, blushing to the roots of her hair. By the time she's put her shoes on, she opens the door to find Takami, Sakuraba and Shin staring at her.

"Uh. You're still wearing that," Sakuraba comments, and she feels her face turn a shade darker.

"I … I—" The words she's trying to say don't come out. How can she tell them that her shirt is transparent because of the rain? It's … It's so embarrassing, she thinks she might die. What's worse is that Takami and Sakuraba are reaching at wrong conclusions. What's worse is that she can't tell them to knock it off because she has trouble saying what she wants to say, and because once she raises her eyes, it's Shin who's staring at her.

"It's still raining," he says simply, "so it's natural she's still wearing that."

Takami and Sakuraba trade a sceptic glance; Shin doesn't notice, but Wakana does, and she turns her hands into fists.

"I wanted to ask you to lend your jersey to me!" Wakana says, bowing so suddenly she thinks she's going to lose her balance. The polished floor offers no response to her desperate look. "I'm having some trouble with my uniform, and that's why I am asking you, S-Shin-san!"

By the time she stands up again, she feels her eyes a little watery, but she doesn't look away from Shin's black eyes. Sakuraba's amused smirk drops once he notices the definitely scared look in her eyes, and he moves towards her, but Takami sets a hand on his chest and shakes his head.

"Okay," Shin says, nodding, and turns to leave.

To say Wakana is a little surprised is an understatement. _That's it?_ To say Wakana is a little relieved and a little disappointed that Shin's expression didn't shift is an understatement. She thinks she's never seen Sakuraba this confused before, and she thinks she's never seen Takami so concerned over the look on her face. She watches him climb the few steps between the door to the football field, impervious to Sakuraba and Takami's sudden need to comfort her, and she fiddles with the zipper of his jacket.

"Wakana," Shin says, from the doorway, turning on his heel to address her, "If you need it again, just ask."

"Yes." She meets his expression with a smile. In the background, Takami and Sakuraba are not quite sure of what just went down, but they suddenly feel a little embarrassed, and pointedly look away from Wakana, pretending to find the door to the men's locker room the most interesting thing in the world.

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><p>The next day, when she hands Shin his jacket, she is still smiling.<p> 


	2. RR: Haunting, Spin

**A/N:** A short one. Do I have the craziest ships, or what?**  
>Prompt:<strong> Look 18—haunting or spin  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Riku & Riko (daughter of Kumabukuro "Afro" Riku)

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><p>The first time they share a look is a fleeting moment, which, in retrospect, is terribly fitting of him. Riko is sitting beside Machine Gun Sanada, who's yelling something or other into the microphone in front of him. She's doing her part of the job—presenting the players as they run into the field. And Riku has been curious ever since he heard her name, because they sort of <em>match<em>. So when he's running out there, waving at the formless crowd, he cranes his neck and stares at the girl named Riko. It's a pure, platonic kind of curiosity.

She's introducing him, reading from somewhere, and she starts with a triumphant smile, turns her head to look at him: "The running back of the Seibu Wild Gunmen—"

And he can almost hear the wonder in her voice when his eyes click into her gaze, can almost relish the silent pause she's creating. They share a moment. Riku takes in the pout of her surprised lips, the widening of her already big eyes, the short curls of blond hair above her brow. There's a little sharp pang of disappointment that his school doesn't have any girls like that (or if it has, he hasn't found them), but he thinks that it's too late for them, now. The previously platonic curiosity melts into interested gluttony.

She's holding a paper sheet, but it's definitely been forgotten as she swallows, curls her shy tongue over her lower lip. He finds himself doing the same, momentarily forgotten about the grass under his feet, the cold wind blowing a path through his helmet and between the strands of his fair hair. He thanks the gods the helmet's already on, because he wouldn't like being caught licking his lips while eye-flirting with a girl. Eye-flirting, that's what he's doing—Riku doesn't think he's ever wanted to look at a girl for so much time. In fact, this is probably the first time he's ever looked a girl in the eyes and _stayed_ there, appreciating.

The smile on her face has worn off, became a small, unsteady circle of confusion and distraction, and Riku breaks into a proud smile. They haven't broken eye contact, and he knows that from where she sits, she has access to the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, to the sharp white of his teeth when he smiles at her. It's a particular, private smile; it's as if the whole stadium isn't watching with their hearts in their sleeves, with their hands pumping in the air.

He's in the middle of wondering how much time has passed since they've started staring at each other when Riko's cheeks flush, and he loses whatever intentions of figuring it out he had before. It's in that moment that he realises that making this girl—this girl he doesn't know from anywhere—flush red is incredibly entertaining. It makes him feel like doing it forever. So that's why Riku, before stepping back to join the rest of the team, confident, charming Riku—

He winks.

He winks at her, and stays behind another second, just to watch her unfold into a darker shade of pink. It's delightful; her forehead and her neck colour also, and he runs his eyes across the collar of her shirt, wondering how far she's blushing. It's also then he remembers that they're not alone, remembers this is not the time for this; certainly, they'll have a lot of time after. Sanada taps her shoulder, big, cartoon-y eyes screaming concern. He must ask her if she's okay, because Riku can see his mouth moving.

"—K—Kaitani Riku …" she finishes, breathlessly, finally averting her eyes to the desk. It's as though her head is spinning, as though she's feeling faint, and Sanada takes cover, introducing the following Gunmen. Riku runs across the field, taps Tetsuma and Kid on the shoulder. Kid gives him a look, between amusement and advice. It doesn't compare to Riko's, but Riku still laughs, and starts making plans for the next time they trade a look.


End file.
